by Gary Moreau
“Get away from me.” Casey said it like a curse.
Yamaguchi did not leave.
“I said get out of here!” Casey yelled, nearly hysterical.
Still Yamaguchi remained, kneeling next to Casey’s pallet.
“I thought you were my friend,” Casey whispered.
“Can you have a friend without respect? Can you respect a man who fails in his duty?” Yamaguchi asked.
Casey forced himself into a sitting position. “What complete bullshit. What duty? Where does your duty to your friends fit into your hierarchy of duties? Just after the duty of wiping your ass after you shit? I put myself on the line for you and you thank me by torturing me. You call that friendship? I don’t call you a friend. I call you a monster.”
“Didn’t you lead me to the cryo-capsule to confirm a theory?" Yamaguchi asked.
“Hell no. I took you there to help your sorry ass. And this is how you repay me.”
“You did not want to know what I observed?”
“I could give a shit about what you observed. Get the hell out of here.”
“You have paid the price. You may have my observations. There is a constant distortion of our perceptions but, even in the peace of the capsule, there are questions I cannot ask. There is a fundamental change in me.”
Yamaguchi stood and walked over to the personal room. He returned with a moist cloth and was about to cleanse Casey’s wounds when Casey pushed his hand away.
“Why?” Casey asked plaintively. “Why did you do it? I needed you. I––” His voice broke.
“It was only pain.”
“Only pain?” His head drooped forward and he felt the stiffness of dried blood. “You are a monster. You are all monsters.”
“Can’t you apply your craft to heal your wounds?” Yamaguchi asked.
“You mean regeneration? Who would manage the life support? Glancy? Who would I trust my sedated body to, you? I don’t need you! I don't need any of you! Did you hear that, Jane!” he yelled. “I loved you. I loved you all, but no longer.” He jerked his collar off and threw it onto the deck. “Get out of here,” he commanded with gritty determination.
Yamaguchi stood, paused for a moment, and finally left the room. Casey was alone, except for his puppy. He lifted the dog into his lap and began stroking her fur.
He was not visited again until later in the afternoon, when Glancy entered the cubicle. Glancy’s face was unusually sober, but Casey didn’t believe or appreciate his solemnity and didn’t choose to recognize his presence until he spoke.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Glancy said.
“The hell you didn’t.”
The silence returned. Glancy walked around the lab, looking at various pieces of equipment, then he turned back to Casey.
“Do you plan to continue my instruction?” he asked.
Casey directed his gaze to Glancy, considering, weighing the possibilities before he spoke. “I will continue. It’ll give me something to do and the colony will need it, but I don’t want to suffer the offense of your presence. I’ll leave instruction cubes for you in the passageway, but understand this; I don’t want you to contaminate this room with your person again. If you do, I swear you’ll not get one more damn thing from me. Is that understood? Slater, are you listening? I hope so, you psychopath. I never fully appreciated the depth of your depravity. You are evil incarnate. If you have a problem with what I’m saying then kill me. I don’t care anymore. Do you hear me Slater!”
After a moment Glancy spoke. “You can’t make it alone. No one can.”
“Can’t I? Isn’t that what I have been doing, despite my fantasies to the contrary?”
“You underestimate yourself. Despite recent events, you do have allies.”
Casey laughed; it was a coarse, unpleasant sound. “Get out of here. You turn my stomach.”
Glancy remained as he searched for the right thing to say.
“I’m warning you, Glancy. Get out of here before I change my mind.”
Glancy pursed his lips, but after a minute of silence, he turned and disappeared through the portal.
Chapter 30
During the following weeks Casey’s depression remained undiminished, until it finally began to bloom into the black flower of self-neglect and self-destruction. He no longer ran painstaking diagnostics on himself and no longer replaced the blue disk that had provided a chemical lifeline to sanity. As the level of chemical support dwindled, Casey withdrew further into himself. His only source of information about the colony came from issues of the "Eden Gazette" that were left in the passage outside the lab. Each morning he would trade an instructional cube for the paper, like a pack rat gathering nuts.
His lucidity waxed and waned like a slowly flickering candle. The isolation imposed upon him by the colony was reinforced by Casey’s own desire to shield himself from his own emotions and unmet needs.
From time to time, Yamaguchi would attempt to communicate with him, but he never responded, never even seemed to recognize his presence. Yamaguchi would find Casey sitting cross-legged on his pallet, amidst the excrement-strewn deck, wearing his increasingly filthy turban and underwear, but nothing else.
As the fabric of Casey’s mind unraveled and became increasingly threadbare, the instructional cube’s contents became ever more filled with exacting detail. He hadn’t spoken to Glancy since the day of the mutilation. It had become a one-way relationship, with Casey producing his cubes as part of his daily ritual, without concern or thought about their fate once he placed them in the passage.
Yamaguchi began spending increasing periods of time in Casey’s cubicle, apparently impervious to the sensual assault. He would feed Casey’s puppy and set out food for Casey, some of which Casey would occasionally nibble. Slater did not interfere; his needs were being met. Casey had become productive and quiet. While in the room, Yamaguchi would stand silently alert, observing, but not questioning. At night, he would retreat to Casey’s cryo-capsule.
After Yamaguchi had left for the night, Casey would venture out of the ship to wander like a shadow in the dark. Rumors began circulating in the colony about an apparition, but it was only Casey, head wrapped in a turban of white bandage, wearing a black raincoat and black rain boots. He took Lisa’s camera with him, which he had rigged with a powerful strobe. On those occasions when a colonist was out at that time, there would be a sudden flash of bright light out of the dark and the colonist would scurry for the security of a dome.
In the morning, Casey would inspect the pictures, produced by a photochemical rather than an electromagnetic process. He looked at them without a preconceived notion of what he would see and viewed sights that would have terrified a more rational being, but he didn’t speak of it. He was alone by force, and now, by choice as well.
At times Yamaguchi would clean up the worst of the mess. Casey didn’t voice objection or approval. It was becoming rare for Slater to call on Yamaguchi for a task and Yamaguchi too began traveling along a private trajectory.
There came a day when Protonov and two trusted aids stopped by to claim Lisa’s camera. They were filled with themselves to overflowing, but they were met at the portal by Yamaguchi’s intimidating bulk. Protonov and his band peered around him. Casey shifted his attention and stared at them with eyes that flashed with a feverish fire set deep in an increasingly bony face. They retreated without even voicing their demand.
And the days passed by.
When a copy of the “Gazette” arrived, Casey would read it carefully, silently mouthing each word. He read about expectations met. All expectations were met, without exception. He read about Swine Day and Chicken Day, and then one day he read the special bulletin, the only issue not edited by Lisa Bouviet. It told of the miracle of the Day of Delivery; within a twenty-four hour period, all the women gave birth. None needed a physician’s assistance. All the babies were healthy.
Casey searched his memory. How long had it been since the Awakening? Five or six months at mos
t, and no one wondered, except Casey during his momentary bouts of clarity. Plausible explanations were exchanged among the colonists, until an acceptable rationale prevailed. Everyone said the planet was fertile, that it encouraged reproduction. That was why the births were early.
The babies grew and none needed the attention of a physician. The world was perfect, just as the colonists expected it to be. Casey knew otherwise, but there was no one to share his private perceptions with, except Yamaguchi, and Casey judged that Yamaguchi had not earned the right to share in his observations.
Casey sat on his pallet day after day, smiling benignly and petting his dog, as expectation after expectation was fulfilled. Only he asked questions and found answers.
He began using the “Gazette” to cover the deck of the lab, eager for the next issue, so another rectangle of the deck could be covered. He was careful never to disturb them, as was Yamaguchi when he stood his silent vigil, only Marta treated the sheets of paper without regard. It was during one of these days, numberless in their similarity, that Casey's solitude was interrupted.
Chapter 31
Glancy entered the lab to find Casey sitting with his puppy, staring without focus toward the opposite bulkhead which was filled with instruments still in their protective cocoons. He stood uncomfortably, just inside the portal, reluctant to step forward and walk on the “Gazettes” spread across the deck, many stained with the waste products of Casey’s dog. He studied Casey.
It had been a long while since the last time Glancy had seen Casey and Casey had undergone a metamorphosis; he looked ancient, head wrapped in a filthy turban, stained black with old blood and other unidentifiable substances. He was naked now, except for black rain boots that reached to his knees. His spindly legs appeared as if they would rattle around in the boots when he walked in them. The frozen ripple of his ribs was plainly visible and was topped by the prominent ridges of his collarbones.
A feeling for others was something new for Glancy, but mainly, he felt revulsion. Compassion was there also, but he was ill prepared to cope with it. He could not or would not identify with this man as someone he’d known. He debated with himself, whether to proceed or not. Ultimately he spoke, in a soft voice, as if afraid to crack the silence.
“Casey,” he whispered.
There was no response.
“Casey, I need your help. It’s not for me. Simon Weiss needs your help.”
There was no sign that Casey heard him.
“Casey,” Glancy said, raising his voice, “I don’t know what to do.”
He had never before been placed in a position of responsibility without a clue how to proceed. He was baffled. Although he had studied Casey’s instructional cubes with determination, he could find no answers.
Two days before, Li Quon had brought Simon to the ship. He was unconscious. Then, yesterday, Brita Baldus had brought in Jon Brent and Tran Nugyen, both completely unresponsive. He had laid them out on treatment tables in the adjoining cubicles, but could find no evidence of illness; yet, they continued to sleep on, unarousable.
“Casey, listen to me, please! I need your help. It’s not for me. It’s for the colony.”
Casey stared forward. He appeared awake, but could just as easily have been in an open-eyed coma.
Glancy continued, daring to step closer. “It’s your duty as a physician. Remember your oath. You swore to provide care for others.” He crept even closer, with Casey’s puppy watching the approaching man with mild interest. Finally, he was within reach and rested his hand on Casey’s bony shoulder.
“Casey,” he said as he touched him, but still there was no response. He took hold of Casey’s shoulders and twisted Casey’s body so they were face to face. The foul odor of putrefaction was on Casey’s breath and hung like a cloud around his face.
Impatience and frustration caused Glancy to squeeze harder and to shake the old man with increasing violence while he shouted his name.
Then, with breath-taking surprise, Glancy’s arms were pinned to his sides and, in the same moment, he was jerked to his feet and propelled toward the portal with such force that he was unable to maintain his balance. He tripped and fell prone onto the passageway deck.
With instincts more basic to him than any other, he rolled and came up in a crotch as he turned to face his attacker. Yamaguchi was unimpressed and stood with his arms at his sides. Glancy straightened warily, keeping his balance for flight or attack.
“Yamaguchi, old friend,” Glancy said and attempted to laugh. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him. I was just trying to talk with him. We…the colony needs him.” While he spoke he began to relax. It appeared Yamaguchi wasn’t going to follow through on his initial attack, but Glancy continued to hold his hands ready, as if they were weapons, which indeed they were.
“I mean it, Yamaguchi. I’m asking for your help. Will you help us?”
Yamaguchi turned and re-entered the lab. He gave no indication of his intentions so Glancy waited in the passage, at first hopeful, then doubtful, and finally angry. He struck the bulkhead with his fist, overcome with the need to discharge his frustration.
Glancy re-entered the treatment room where Li Quon awaited word. She was standing over Simon, her eyes on his face and the fingers of one hand on his pulse. She looked up and saw the anger that still flared as ruddy patches on Glancy’s cheeks. He didn’t need to tell Li he had failed. Li dropped her gaze back to Simon’s flaccid hand, which she was holding in her own. They had tried, both of them, but Simon’s problem was beyond their ability to understand or treat. Li had also examined the other two unconscious colonists with no success.
Glancy spoke. “I’m out of ideas.” After a moment of silence he added, “I’m sorry.” He said the words automatically, as he had in the past when they were expected, but surprised himself by feeling real regret. Perhaps, he thought, training as a physician hadn’t been such a good idea after all. He felt vulnerable and didn’t like it. Then he remembered that Li had successfully treated Casey’s mental illness once before.
“Li, do you think you could prepare a therapeutic disk for Casey like you did while we were in orbit?”
She looked up. The glimmer of hope in her eyes faded rapidly. “Those days were so chaotic. I don’t know. I was so tired and when I recall those days, which I try not to, all I can think about was when Casey attacked me.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“It’s worth a try, don’t you think?”
“Without diagnostics it could be no better than an approximation, but maybe it’s just possible....” Her voice faded away as she dropped into thought.
Glancy smiled and said, with more confidence than he felt, “We can do this.” But then, after a moment, he added, “I think you should know, Yamaguchi is usually with him. It would probably be best if we wait until evening. At night Yamaguchi goes down to the land-shaper in the Storage Deck.”
Li had no desire to confront Yamaguchi. She nodded agreement.
“What does he do down there?” she asked.
“I have no idea and I’m not about to try to find out.”
After a few minutes, the feeling of helplessness returned.
Glancy was restless. “I’m going to go down the passage and wait in the hall of sleep to watch for Yamaguchi. When I see him enter the down-tube, I’ll come for you.”
Li nodded and then looked back down at Simon.
Glancy paused at the portal. It was perfectly quiet except for the barely audible “hiss” of respirations passing in and out of Simon’s lax mouth. He stepped into the passageway and the portal shut.
Chapter 32
Li didn’t hear the portal open when Glancy returned. She was sitting in a chair, leaning against the treatment table, overcome by sleep. He touched her shoulder and she awakened. She rubbed her eyes and face to try to restore alertness. Grabbing hold of Glancy’s outstretched hand, she pulled herself to her feet.
“Is he gone?” she whispered, as if she was afraid Yamaguchi could hear
through walls.
In an equally quiet voice Glancy answered. “Yes, I followed him down to storage. He went into the land-shaper and closed the hatch. He shouldn’t return for hours. Li…I have to warn you. Expect the worst. Casey isn’t the same man he was a few months ago.” Glancy paused. “He’s changed.”
“Changed?” It was uncanny. So much like that time in space. She shivered with remembrance.
Glancy continued. “He looks ancient, but it’s more than that. He seems absent. He has retreated so far into himself that he may no longer be reachable. It’s as if his body is on automatic and his mind burnt out. And the room! It’s a foul pit, thick with the stench of animal waste from that damn dog.”
Li said nothing.
“Are you ready?” Glancy asked.
“I guess so.”
“Then let’s get to it before Yamaguchi returns.”
When they entered the passage Li could feel her heart thudding in her chest, fear and fatigue. She recalled the last time she had been in the lab with an insane Casey; her left hand began to tingle and her throat felt like it was closing. She slowed further, letting Glancy enter the room first, and then forced herself to follow after him.
The light-lines had been dimmed, but as their eyes adjusted they saw the beads of bone that marked the curvature of Casey’s spine while he leaned forward, hunched over the computer console. The puppy wagged its tail and ran over to play. Glancy picked the dog up and began scratching behind her ears to keep her quiet. They remained where they were for a moment longer and heard Casey mumbling to himself as he produced yet another instructional cube for no apparent reason.
Glancy spotted the molecular synthesizer, partially buried in pile of soiled and crumpled papers. He touched Li on the arm and pointed it out to her. She took a couple of steps to the side, her eyes not leaving the bony form of Casey, whose slovenly-wrapped turban glowed in the light from the computer screen. She squatted and picked up the synthesizer, wanting to wipe off its grimy surface, but afraid to make any unnecessary movement. She glanced down and punched in the code. The corners of the cube glowed green, indicating that it was still functional and, shortly, a blue disk slid out of a slot on the top. She held the disk in her hand and squatted slowly to replace the synthesizer on the deck.